DWIGHT L. MOODY 
AND HIS MOTHER 


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DWIGHT L. MOODY 


ZIONS HERALD 


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MRS. DWIGHT L. MOODY 


America’s Foremost Evangelist 


HENRY WILLIAM ‘RANKIN 


WENTY-FIVE YEARS have passed 
‘Te since the death of D. L. Moody, 
and fifty since his early work in Grext 
Britain gave him world-wide reputation 
as the greatest evangelist of the last cen- 


tury. What in this service John Wesley 
was for .English-speaking lands in the 


eighteenth century, that D. L. Moody was, 
beyond all others, in the nineteent’. 
Many others in the last century were emi- 
nent heralds of the gospel, but, by com- 
mon consent, he became preeminent, al- 
though his own celebrity was the last 
thing that he sought. His life was spent 
in celebrating Jesus Christ, as Lord, Re- 
deemer, and Friend of all, through whom 
we become reconciled to the will of God, 
have unhindered access to God, and learn 
to know God Himself as our own eternal 
good. 

All over the world of men today the 
name of D. L. Moody is cherished for the 
hope, the help, the joy, the blessing that 
he brought into multitudes of lives, as his 
abiding influence does still, He was a 
means of life to this whole country, and 
to the entire English-speaking world, iin 
a measure that can hardly be ascribed to 
any other one man of his time. His cen- 
tral enterprise was preaching the gospel; 


yet many who think of him as a great 
preacher little know his greatness as a 


man, the real extent of his influence, the 
range of his subsidiary activities, or the 
wealth of results proceeding from his cen- 
tral aim. 

The maxim that he exemplified was: 
Consecrate and concentrate all the powers 
and purposes of life to a single aim, that 
whatever we do may be done for the glory 
of God and good of man, in view of what 
God is in Himself, and has already done, 
and will yet do for us. Thus, God Him- 
self becomes our present and eternal por- 
tion, so that whatever we may have or 
lack, we are sure of Him, and enjoy Him 
forever, our chief good. 

There is no space here to characterize 


at large the leading evangelist of the cea- 
tury past, and founder of the Northfield 
Schools. His career was so extended, so 
unique, so rich in incident and product, 
that a dozen biographies might be writ- 
ten, all good, emphasizing different as- 
pects of the man, though failing to ex- 
haust the material and the interest. One 
feature, however, may be specified here. 
It is probable that no man of his time so 
multiplied himself, by calling into exer- 
cise the latent or unsuspected powers of 
others, men and women, to further the 
ends for which he lived. Certainly no 
Northfield student should ever leave the 
place without getting by heart the life of 
D. L. Moody. It was the present writer’s 
privilege to be brought into close contact 
with the great evangelist during the last 
eighteen years of his life; and any one 
who may wish to know more fully the 
estimate formed in that relation, can find 
it as summarized for Henry Drummond, 
and at his request, at the close of his de- 
lightful book on the same friend. 

When, twenty-five years ago, Mr. Moody 
died, Northfield lost her greatest citizen. 
But ten years later, on the recurrent an- 
hiversary of his birth, a leading journal 
of Chicago commemorated him editorially 
as the first citizen of that great city, with 
the welfare of which he was so much and 
long concerned. He was, in fact, an un- 
challenged citizen of the world, besides 
possessing, as surely as the first apostle 
to the nations, the freedom of the city 
that is above. When he left us his going 
was like a triumphal progress to take a 
kingdom. 

No man was ever blessed with better 
mother or better wife; and that accounts 
for much that the daughters of Northfield 
may well heed. Heaven ordered this for 
him, as he never doubted, and would do 
as much for all, if all were as willing to 
have Heaven rule. He never failed to ac- 
knowledge the source of these gifts; but 
Heaven is always giving benefits for 





which it gets no thanks. In the measure 
of original and masterful personality a 
man, even when he is a good man, is dif- 
ficult for most women to handle without 
some loss of self-respect; but the mother 
and the wife of D. L. Moody knew exactly 
how to take him. So deeply and gracious- 
ly they impressed him by their own wis- 
dom, without self-assertion, by their own 
winsome characters, so unselfish thougn 
self-poised, that they kept him from many 
mistakes, encouraged him in many and > 
grievous trials, sweetened the uses of ad- 
versity, immeasurably enriched his joys, 
and immensely enhanced his own value 
for the world. In the thousands of col- 
umns and pages published regarding him, 


too little has been told of the mother and — 


wife, and little can be written here. But 
in these almost unexampled days of dis- 
honor shown to both rights and duties of 
parents, and to the sacredness of mai-— 
riage, it is well to keep in mind that 
neither marriage, nor the family, nor 
friendship is ever perfected, or ever seen 
at its best, where there is no common in-— 
terest in God. The throne of grace is the 
best trysting-place, and always love re- 
quired must be inspired. No laws of 
nature are more unchangeable than these. 

D. L. Moody was the son of a great 
mother, whose death occurred less than 
four years before his own. His tribute to 
her memory at the time was one of the 
most delightful ever rendered to a mother 
by a son, and in its entirety should he 
made available to all readers. [The HeEr- 
ALD prints it immediately following this 
article.} Good reasons can be found in 
her for his exceptional qualities and ser- 
vice. She was born Feb. 5, 1805, and by 
a singular coincidence he was born on the 
same day and month of 1837, when she 
was thirty-two. He was the sixth of nine 
children, twins being born after their 
father’s death. All these children grew up 
to be good citizens, sharing in common 
many family traits; but among them he 
was unique, as Benjamin Franklin in a 
family of seventeen. To the present 


writer his mother once remarked, with a_ 


significant alternative in mind: “I always 
thought D. L. would be one thing or the 


| i 







—s : 


—_ 


aT 


Decen.ber 17, 1924 


other.” It was plain that he never could 
be anything by halves. Between mother 
and son was a peculiarly close bond, and 
in him her own greatness was reflected. 
It is a saying of Emerson that “when 
the Master of the universe has points to 
carry in His government, He implants His 
will in the structure of minds.” This in- 
duction can be corroborated from 
Scripture and all history. Both parents 
had good antecedents, with a nature phys- 
ically and mentally strong; but the hus- 
band’s sudden death when Dwight was 
four years old, brought years of hardship 
in its wake that drove the widow to per- 
petual waiting upon God, and developed 
her unusual character. Her days were 
largely spent in a little kitchen; but its 
windows looked out upon the loveliest 
view enjoyed by any house in town, one 
of the loveliest in New England. She 
could never be persuaded to leave its 
humble tasks when her son was most 
ready to relieve her; yet she was fit com- 
pany for the best society on earth. By 
nature and grace she might have ruled a 
realm, and the story of her noble life de- 
serves more record than it has received. 
To the soundest English lineage she 


“united the soundest constitution, and from 


the silhouette likeness of her standing fig- 
ure, made near the time of her marriage 
in 1828, it is easy to see she had been a 
fine-looking girl. But once she told the 
writer that when she was a girl she was 
not allowed on Sunday to look into her 
mirror. In the year of her marriage she 
entered the house where all her subse- 
quent life was spent—a house built only 
five years earlier, or one hundred years 
before its recent renovation. 

With these outward advantages went 
inward qualities in rare harmony: self- 
command and easy rule of others, native 
dignity that had no pretense, dauntless 
courage and common sense; accurate 
speech and ready wit, yet guarded tongue 
—grace seasoned with salt; an open mind 
and hand, and generous thoughts toward 
all, with unchanging deeps of affection for 


_ her children, and for the memory of her 


husband; faith, hope, and charity un- 
feigned, with efficient fidelity to the duty 
next at hand. These are the qualities by 
which she became a woman, a wife, a 
mother, and a friend, of character so 
strong, so balanced, so directed that in- 
evitably she inspired the obedient love of 
all her children, and the rare admiration 
of all who knew her. Love required must 
be inspired, and the source of such in- 
spiration is found best in such a charac- 
ter: 


It is not surprising that one of her sons 


all | 


1s ™ 
| 
—s 
~ 


ZION’S HERALD 


became not only a 
prince among men 
but also what the 
Hebrew psalmist 
calls a man of the 
right hand of the 
Most High. From 
the chamber on that 
little hill where, day 
and night, she ap- 
proached the throne 
of grace, came the 
refreshing streams of 
her son’s wide min- 
istry which have 
watered all the earth 
—like the rivers of 
Eden that, according 
to the oldest tradi- 
tions of mankind, 
parted to the four 
quarters of the earth 
from a fountain ona 


high mount which 
rose directly, trom 
the center of the 


paradise on _ earth 
toward the paradise 
of God in heaven. 
But if all this can 
bemasaids «Of aL yale. 
Moody’s mother, what 
may not be said also 
of the wife, who 
made his home so 
sweet and beautiful 
with her presence, 
sharing with him 
every burden, every 
prayer, and _ every 
answer by which his 
life was filled with 


victory and _ blessed 
fruit? She also has 
left these earthly 


scenes to enter on her immortality; she, 
and the brothers, George and Edwin and 
Isaiah, and how many more, have in these 
few years past gone from our sight, that 
we may learn to live by faith in the un- 
seen and eternal. 

All that was best in their lives came 
through such faith. For the things that 
are seen are for a time, the things thal 
are not seen are eternal. It has been wel! 
said that this is the first and last lesson 
of religion. By its religion every civiliza- 
tion stands or falls. If among religions 
Christianity is best, so also is that Chris- 
tianity best which is nearest like its orig- 
inal. The factors that make up the life 
of every man are not two only, as often 
is supposed, but four. The four are: 
heredity, environment, free personality, 


Birthplace of Mr. Moody, at East Northfield 





Mrs. Betsey Holton Moody, Mother of Dwight L. Moody. 
a Photograph Taken 


1611 


From 
in Her Home When She Was in Her 


Eighty-Seventh Year 





and the supernatural providence of God. 

Nothing greater can be said than this 
of D. L. Moody, that few have exemplified 
better than he did in the nineteenth cen- 
tury the Christian doctrine and practise 
of the first. Many still live who owe the 
best impulse and direction of their own 
lives to his influence, and the Northfield 
Schools remain to perpetuate his ideals. 


East Northfield. 


The Evangelist’s Tribute to His 
Mother 


[Spoken at the Funeral Service, Jan. 29, 
1896] 

T is not the custom, perhaps, for a son 
I to take part in such an occasion. If I 
can control myself I would like to say a 
few words. It is a great honor to be the 
son of such a mother. I do not know 
where to begin; I could not praise her 
enough. In the first place my mother was 
avery wise woman. In one sense she was 
wiser than Solomon; she knew how to 
bring up her children. She had nine chil- 
dren and they all loved their home. She 
won their hearts, their affections, she 
could do anything with them. 

Whenever I wanted real sound counsel 
I used to go to my mother. I have trav- 
eled a good deal and seen a good many 
mothers, but I never saw one who had 
such tact as she had. She so bound her 
children to her that it was a great ca- 
lamity to have to leave home. I had two 
brothers that lived in Kansas and died 
there. Their great longing was to get back 
to their mother. My brother who died in 
Kansas a short time ago had been looking 
over the Greenfield papers for some time 
to see if he could not buy a farm in this 
locality. He had a good farm there, but 





he was never satisfied; he wanted to get 
back to mother. That is the way she won 
her family, she won them to herself. 

I have heard something within the last 
forty-eight hours that nearly broke my 
heart. I merely mention it to show what 
a character she was. My eldest sister, her 
oldest daughter, told me that the first 
year after my father died she wept herself 
to sleep every night. Yet she was always 
bright and cheerful in the presence of her 
children, and they never knew anything 
about it. Her sorrows drove her to Him, 
and in her own room, after we were 
asleep, I would wake up and hear her 
praying, and sometimes I would hear her 
weeping. She would be sure her children 
were all asleep before she would pour 
out her tears. 

And there was another thing remarkable 
about my mother. If she loved one child 
more than another no one ever found it 
out. Isaiah, he was her first boy; she 
could not get along without Isaiah. And 
Cornelia, she was her first girl; she could 
not get along without Cornelia, for she 
had to take care of the twins. And 
George, she couldn’t live without George. 
What could she ever have done without 
George? He stayed right by her through 
thick and thin. She couldn’t live without 
George. And Edwin, he bore the name of 
her husband. And Dwight, I don’t know 
what she thought of him. And Luther, he 
was the dearest of all, because he had to 
go away to live. He was always homesick 
to get back to mother. And Warren, he 
was the youngest when father died; it 
seemed as if he was dearer than all the 
rest. And Sam and Lizzie, the twins, they 
were the light of her great sorrow. 

She never complained of her children. 
It is a great thing to have such a mother, 
and I feel like standing up here today to 
praise her. And just here I want to say 
before I forget it, you don’t know how she 
appreciated the kindness which was shown 
her in those days of early struggle. Some- 
times I would come home and say such 
a man did so and so, and she would say, 
“Don’t say that, Dwight; he was kind o 
me.” 

My father died a bankrupt, and the 
creditors came and swept everything we 
had. They took everything, even the kin- 
dling wood; and there came on a snow- 
storm, and the next morning mother said 
we would have to stay in bed until school 
time because there was no wood to make 
a fire. Then all at once I heard some one 
chopping wood, and it was my Uncle Sam. 
I tell you I have always had a warm heart 
for that uncle for that act. And that night 
there came the biggest load of wood I ever 
saw in my life. It took two yoke of oxen 


ZION’S HERALD 


. 


to draw it. It was that uncle that brought 
it. That act followed me all through life, 
and a good many acts, in fact. Mr. Ev- 
erett, the pastor of the Unitarian Church, 
I remember how*kind he was in those 
days. I want to testify today how my 
mother appreciated that. 

I remember the first thing I did to earn 
money was to turn the neighbor’s cows up 
on Strowbridge Mountain. I got a cent a 
week for it. I never thought of spending 
it on myself. It was to go to mother, It 
went into the common treasury. And I 
remember when George got work we asked 
who was going to milk the cows. Mother 
said. she would milk. She also made our 
clothes, and wove the cloth, and spun the 
yarn, and darned our stockings. 

I thought so much of my mother I can- 
not say half enough. That dear face! 


There was no sweeter face on earth. Fifty 
years I have been coming back and was 
always glad to get back. When I got 
within fifty miles of home I always grew 
restless and walked up and down the car. 


December 17, 1924 


It seemed to me as if the train would 
never get to Northfield. For sixty-eight 
years she has lived on that hill, and when 
I came back after dark I always looked 
to see the light in mother’s window. When 
I got home last Saturday night—I was 
going to take the four o’clock train from 
New York and get here at twelve; 1 had 


.some business to do; but I suppose it was 


the good Lord that sent me; I took the 
twelve o’clock train and got here at five— 
I went in to my mother. I was so glad I 
got back in time to be recognized. I said, 
“Mother, do you know me?” She said, 
“I guess I do!’ I like that word, that 
Yankee word “guess”! The children were 
all with her when she was taking her de- 
parture. At last I called, “Mother, moth- 
er.’ No answer. She had fallen asleep; 
but I shall call her again by and by. 
Friends, it is not a time of mourning. J 
want you to understand we do not mourn. 
We are proud that we had such a mother. 
We have a wonderful legacy left us. 

One day mother sent for me. I went to 
see what she wanted, and she said she 
wanted to divide her things. I said, 
“Well, mother, we don’t want anything 
you’ve got; we want you. We have got 
you, and that’s all we want.” “Yes, but I 
want to do something.” I said to her, 
“Then write out what you want, and I will 
carry it out.” That didn’t satisfy her. 
Finally she said, “Dwight, I want them 
all to have something.” That was my 
mother, and that was the way she bound 
us to her. 

Now, I have brought the old Bible, the 
family Bible, for it all came from that 
book. That is about the only book we 
had in the house when father died, and 
out of that book she taught us. And if 
my mother has been a blessing to this 
world, it is because she drank at this 
fountain. I will read here a few verses 
which she has marked. 

“Who can find a virtuous woman? for her 


price is far above rubies. The heart of her 
husband doth safely trust in her.’ 


She has been a widow for fifty-four 











Bird’s-Eye Views of 





Mount Hermon School (top) and Northfield Seminary 





December 17, 1924 


years, and yet she loved her husband the 
day she died as much as she ever did. I 
never heard one word and she never 
taught her children to do anything but 
just reverence our father. She loved him 
right up to the last. ~ 


“She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh 
willingly with her hands.” 


That is my mother. 


“She considereth a field and buyeth it; 
with the fruit of her hands she planteth a 
vineyard. She girdeth her loins with 
strength, and strengtheneth her arms. She 
perceiveth that her merchandise is good; her 
candle goeth not out by night.’ 

Widow Moody’s light has burned on 
that hill for fifty-four years to my knowl- 
edge. It has been burning there for fifty- 
four years, in that one room. We built 
a room for her, where she could be more 
comfortable, but she was not often there. 
There was just one room where she want- 
ed to be. Her children were born there, 
her first sorrow came there, and that was 
where God had met her. That is the place 
she liked to stay, where her cnildren liked 
to meet her, where she worked and toiled 
and wept. 

“She stretcheth out her hands to the poor; 
yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the 
needy.”’ 

Now, there is one thing about my moth- 
er, she never turned away any poor from 
her home. There was one time we got 
down to less than a loaf of bread. Some 
one came along hungry, and she says, 
“Now, children, shall I cut your slices a 
little thinner and give some to this per- 
son?” And we all voted for her to do it. 
That is the way she taught us. 

“She is not afraid of the snow for her 
household; for all her household are clothed 
with scarlet.” 

She would let the neighbors’ boys in, 
all over the house, and track in the snow; 
and when there was going to be a party 
she would say, “Who will stay with me? 
I will be all alone; why don’t you ask 
them to come here?” In that way she 
kept them all at home, and knew where 
her children were. The door was never 
locked at night until she knew they were 
all in bed, safe and secure. Nothing was 
too hard for her if she could only spare 
her children. 

The seven boys were like Hannibal, 
whose mother took him to the altar and 
made him ‘swear vengeance on Rome. 
She took us to the altar and made us 
Swear vengeance on whiskey, and every- 
thing that was an enemy to the human 
family; and we have been fighting it ever 
since and will to the end of our days. 

My mother used to punish me; I honor 
her for that, I do not object to punish- 
ment. She used to send me out to get a 
stick. It would take a long time to get 
it, and then I used to get a dead stick if I 
could. She would try it and if it would 
break easily, then I had to go and get an- 
other. She was not in a hurry and did 
not tell me to hurry, because she knew all 
the time that I was being punished. I 
would go out and be gone a long time. 
When I came in she would tell me to take 
off my coat, and then she would put the 
birch on; and I remember once I said, 
“That doesn’t hurt.” She put it on all the 
harder, and I never did that the second 
time. And once in a while she would take 
me and she would say, “You know I would 
rather put this on myself than to put it 
on you.” J would look up and see tears in 
her eyes. That was enough for me. 

What more can I say? You have lived 
with her and you know about her. I want 
to give you one verse, her creed. Her 
creed was very short. Do you know what 
it was? I will tell you what it was. When 


Stay, “My trust is in God.” 





ZION’S HERALD 


everything went against her this was her 
“My trust is 
in God.’” And when the neighbors would 
come in and tell her to bind out her chil- 
dren, she would say, “Not as long as I 
have these two hands.” “Well,” they 
would say, “you know one woman cannot 
bring up seven boys; they will turn up in 
jail, or with a rope around their necks.” 
She toiled on, and none of us went to jail, 
and none of us has had a rope around his 
neck. And if every one had a mother like 
that mother, if the world was mothered 
by that kind of mothers, there would be 
no need for jails. 


“Leave thy fatherless children; he _ will 


preserve them alive.” 

Here is a book (a little book of devo- 
tions); this and the Bible were about all 
the books she had in those days; and 
every morning she would stand us up and 
read out of this book. All through this 
book I find things marked. 

Every Saturday night—we used to begin 
to observe the Sabbath at sundown Satur- 


H. N. F. Marshall of Boston, Who, as 
First Treasurer and Business Manager of 
the Northfield Schools, for- Ten Years, by 
Unremitting and Gratuitous Service, Ren- 
dered the Most Efficient Aid in the Estab- 


lishment of These Institutions. Mr. Mar- 

shall Had Been Associated in Some Busi- 

ness Transactions with Mr. H. F. Durant, 

Founder of Wellesley College, and the 

Three Men—Mr. Moody, Mr. Marshall, and 

Mr. Durant—Met Frequently at the Durant 
Home in Boston. 





day night, and at sundown Sunday night 
we would run out and throw up our caps 
and let off our jubilant spirits—this is 
what she would give us Saturday night, 
and it has gone with me through life. 
Not all of it, I could not remember it all: 
“How pleasant it is on Saturday night 
When I’ve tried all the week to be good.” 

And on Sunday she always started us off 
to Sunday school. It was not a debatable 
question: whether we should go or not. 
Ail the family attended. 

I do not know, of course we do not 
know, whether the departed ones are con- 
scious of what is going on on earth. If I 
knew that she was I would send her a 
message that we are coming on after her. 
If I could, I believe I would send a mes- 
sage after her, not only for the family, 
and the town, but for the seminary. She 
was always so much interested in the 
young ladies of the seminary. She seemed 
to be as young as any of them and entered 
into the joys of the young people just as 
much as any one. I want to say to the 


1613 


young ladies of the seminary, who acted 
as maids of honor to escort my mother 
down to the church this morning, that I 
want you to trust my mother’s Saviour. 

I want to say to the young men of 
Mount Hermon, you are going to have a 
great honor to escort mother to her last 
resting-place. Her prayers for you 
ascended daily to the throne of grace. 
Now, I am going to give you the best I 
have; I am going to do the best I can; I 
am going to lay her away with her face 
toward Hermon. : 

I think she is one of the noblest charac- 
ters this world has ever seen. She was as 
true as sunlight; I never knew that wom- 
an to deceive me. 

I want to thank Dr. Scofield for the 
comforting words he has brought us to- 
day. It is a day of rejoicing, not of re- 
gret. She went without a pain, without a 
struggle, just like a person going to sleep. 
And now we are to lay her body away to 
await His coming in resurrection power. 
When I see her in the morning she is to 
have a glorious body. The body Moses 
had cn the Mount of Transfiguration was 
a better body than God buried on Pisgah. 
When we see Elijah he will have a glorious 
body. That dear mother, when I see her 
again, is going to have a glorified body. 
(Looking at her face) God bless you, 
mother; we love you still. Death has only 
increased our love. Good-by for a little 
while, mother. Let us pray. 


Baptized with Power 


[Extract from an Address on “The Con- 
ditions of a Successful Ministry’? Deliv- 
ered before the Graduating Class of 
Princeton Theological Seminary Last May 
by Rev. David J. Burrell, D. D., and Print- 
ed in The Princeton Seminary Bulletin] 

HAVE reason to thank God for a close 

friendship in my early life with that 
prince of evangelists, Mr. Moody. “Young 
man,” he used to say to me in my student 
days, “young man, be sure you honor the 
Holy Ghost!” 

In the Chicago fire of 1872, his home 
and his preaching station, Farwell Hal!, 
were burned out and he was left high and 
dry. On an eastward bound train he con- 
tinued in prayer saying, “O Lord, I have 
never been what I ought to be, I never 
have realized my ideal of service. Help 
me now to begin all over again. Baptize 
me with power. Come, Holy Spirit, 
come!” 

On reaching New York he found quar- 
ters in the old Metropolitan Hotel, where, 
all the following day, he kept on praying 
the same prayer, “O God! give me power! 
Fill me with zeal and a passion for souls: 
Come, Holy Spirit, come!” Late in the 
afternoon Major Whittle knocked at his 
door and, receiving no response but hear- 
ing a voice within, threw it open. There 
stood Mr. Moody in the middle of the 
room, with face uplifted and bathed in 
tears, saying over and over “No more! 
My Lord, no more!” He had received the 
blessing. The Holy Ghost had come in 
power and filled him ‘to the lips. And 
thereafter, in his evangelistic tours in 
America and across the seas, he reaped 
such harvests as never before. Souls came 
flocking to Christ, as doves to their win- 
dows. 








One of the strongest elements of his 
(Moody’s] character was his determination to 
succeed in whatever he undertook; indeed, he 
once said to me that when he first went into 
his uncle’s store in Boston he made up his 
mind that he would sell more goods than any 
other one, and it was said that he went out on 
the street and urged passers-by into the store 
to make purchases. (From “George C. Steb- 
bins: Reminiscences and Gospel Hymn Sto- 
ries.’’) 


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